Prayer of the Children
by A.K.A. Anonymous
Summary: Duo has a nightmare of ghosts and events from his past. Songfic


Prayer of the Children  
By: A.K.A. Anonymous  
  
Disclaimers: I don't own GW some really rich companies in Japan have that pleasure.  
I also don't own the song 'Prayer of the Children'. I've just heard it at a lot of choir concerts, competitions, etc. I should know who wrote it, but I don't. ^_^;   
  
A.N.-This takes place before the Endless Waltz.   
***********************************************  
  
The ground shook at the force of the explosion. The boy could feel the heat of the blast on his back as his sprinted through the endless night. But he couldn't run fast enough and no matter how he tried to make his legs pump faster, the scenery never changed.   
  
Ahead of him he could see two shadowed figures beckoning to him and he stretch his hands out in front of him, but they faded back too quickly. Letting out a horse sob, the boy tried to catch them, but strange streets led to dark alleys and alleys to dead ends. He was lost--lost and alone.  
  
'So, Duo, do you believe in God?' the voice echoed to his right and he ran to it. Suddenly before him was a scene that wrenched his heart. A small boy with long brown hair sat on the lap of an older man in white robes. The boy thought about the question carefully and grinned at a woman in black standing in the doorway.  
  
'I believe in the Shinigami!' the small boy answered, not noticing the concerned look of the adults.  
  
'Why do you believe there's a God of Death?' the old man asked kindly.  
  
''Cause I've seen lots of that,' the boy answered with heartbreaking innocence.   
  
The vision faded back and the lost boy cried out. "Father Maxwell, don't leave, please!" But the scene was gone and the boy was alone.  
  
*Can you hear the Prayer of the Children?  
On bended knee, in the shadow of an unknown ruin?*  
  
The boy couldn't run any more, there was no strength left in his legs or his heart. Finally, he bent his head and brought his shaking hands up to grasp the cross dangling from his neck.  
  
*Empty eyes with no more tears to cry  
turning homeward toward the light.  
Crying Jesus help me   
to see the morning light of one more day,  
but if I should die before I wake,  
I pray my soul to take.*  
  
More scenes flashed before him: a quick boy with brown hair living on the streets; watching his best friend die; training to be a soldier; battle after battle after battle; finding Father Maxwell and Sister Helen in pools of dust and...  
  
"Nooo!" the boy turned away from the scene of debris and massacre. "God, please, if you're there like he said you were, please, take these away!"  
  
'My name is Quatra Raberba Winner,' a slim blonde boy introduce himself.   
  
'I'm Duo, Duo Maxwell; I may run and hide, but I never tell a lie. That's me in a nutshell,' the other version of himself responded. The lost boy looked up at this, remembering the moment he gained a new friend and ally, but the scene skipped a head and he watched as the village they had stayed in was utterly destroyed. His feelings of helplessness and anger were mirrored in the eyes of the blonde companion.  
  
*Can you feel the Hearts of the Children?  
Aching for home, for something of their very own?*  
  
The only strength the boy drew was from the knowledge the villagers were safe and their loss was revenged in the war to end all wars. The war Duo had fought in as the great Shinigami, though he wore the collar of a priest in remembrance of the two who tried to save him from the life he chose. A boy with no home, no family, and no beliefs--save that Death came to all.  
  
*Reaching hands with nothing to hold on to   
but hope for a better day, a better day.  
Crying Jesus help me   
to feel the love again in my own land.*  
  
Gentle tears fell from the Shinigami's eyes as he watched helplessly, the scenes unfold, one after another after another. Playing basketball with Heero; getting beat up by his captures; hanging out with Hilde; trying to self-detonate...   
  
He grinned ruefully at the last image, "It's a good thing I didn't have the power for that; it would have really screwed things up." The echo of his voice brought the statement back to him and he soaked in the words. How much would have been changed if he hadn't gone through all that? Could the other Gundam pilots have survived the war if Deathscythe hadn't been there? Would Trowa have been found on time to join them? The thoughts filled his head with confusion and a greater sense of perspective than he had ever had before. Was there a greater power at work? One question filled him with fear above all others: Would Hilde have stayed with OZ, fighting against the Gundams?   
  
*But if unknown roads lead away from home  
give me loving arms far from harm.*  
  
Thoughts of the dark-haired girl brought on a battery of memories. In his escape to the Lunar Base, she backed him up--she didn't even know who he was, but she still risked her life for him. He could still picture her weak smile as she gave him the tactical data of Libra, the second time she had almost died to help him. He was touched to the core of his soul at her sense of loyalty to him.  
  
"No, we risked our lives for the good for the colonies," he whispered, shaking his head clear. He bitterly remembered how the colony citizens had called for his death. "Children playing soldiers because we wanted freedom and peace."   
  
The scenes went back to the Maxwell Orphanage massacre; the soldiers of the Alliance beating civilians in the streets; Oz soldiers forcing people back at gunpoint...  
  
*Can you hear the Voice of the Children?  
Softly pleading for silence in their shattered world?*  
  
So many had died: civilians, soldiers, children and adults. War was an uncaring thief. But the boy knew Death was, too, and he was the God of Death. Taking the lives of the misled, the angry, the righteous, along with all the hopes they had for the future. He was only a boy, but he was one of the greatest killers the world had ever seen. That truth haunted him every day and night.  
  
He reached up and felt that the tears on his face had dried. "The God of Death is a human, and so he can be tormented by nightmares that would have destroyed any normal being...because the nightmares that I have cannot get worse. I have already lived through them." He looked to the pitch-black sky and shouted, "Can you forgive a God of Death?"   
  
Clinging to the cross in his hands even tighter he added softly, "Even if he can't forgive himself?"  
  
*Angry guns preach a gospel full of hate,  
blood of the innocent on their hands.  
Crying Jesus help me to feel   
the sun again upon me face.*  
  
The boy took a trembling step toward the reoccurring vision he had first turned away from.   
  
Cement and bricks were strewn everywhere, dust from the mortar coated everything, and, at first, it hid the pools of slick blood that surrounded the serene face of Sister Helen.   
  
This time there was no younger version of himself to watch rush to her, no wails of grief, no bitter tears; just silence as he walked to the woman who had loved him so few years ago.   
  
"Duo, you made it out alive," her eyes filled with tears of relief and pain. "God has answered my prayers. Will you receive his blessing?"  
  
"I'm so sorry, Sister. I've done so many things, terrible things... God has cursed me." The boy with the long braid knelt down in the rubble and cradled the dying woman in his arms.   
  
She smiled and raised her hand delicately to his cheek. "God works in ways we can't always understand, and I know he works his will through you. Father Maxwell thought so, too."  
  
Duo tried to laugh, but it came about in a half sob, "He really tried to make a priest out of me, but I became a demon instead."  
  
"No, not a demon; never that, Duo, never. Perhaps a lost angel; protecting humanity, but not yet able to feel God's light inside." The boy shook his head, but she laid her hand on it and spoke the words of the blessing. The hand fell away, limp.  
  
The vision faded and the boy was left kneeling in the circle of a streetlight, his arms slowly retracting from their grip around the ghost to hug himself. "God, I'm so lost... I don't want to be lost anymore, but I still don't know the way back. I've run out of places to run and this is the same hell I've always known."  
  
'May the Lord grant you his peace, Duo,' the voice of Sister Helen whispered.  
  
---***---  
  
"Duo? Duo!" the voice wasn't Sister Helen's, but it was familiar. Groggily Duo opened his eyes. He never felted rested after the nightmares, but this time he felt a strange calm. Not unpleasant, but strange and...calm, he didn't know how else to describe it.  
  
"Duo Maxwell, if you don't answer me I'm going to breakdown this door!" the panicked voice shouted.   
  
"Hilde? Is that you?" the boy jumped off the couch and unlocked the door. A blur of dark hair flashed and he felt a heavy weight around him. The girl buried her face in his t-shirt. "Hilde?"  
  
"Duo, I was so worried," the girl said with a break in her voice. He wrapped his arms around her and leaned his cheek on her head. "I could hear you yelling, but you wouldn't answer..."  
  
"It was just a nightmare, I'm alright, Hilde," his sense of calm expanded as she lifted her head to look in his eyes. "I never lie, remember?"  
  
She smiled and hugged him again. He heard her small whisper, "Thank God."   
  
*For when darkness clears   
I know you're near,  
bringing peace again.*  
  
*Can you hear the Prayer of the Children?*  
  
*********************************************  
I just had to get that out of my system. Sigh I love that song. C&C, R&R, Flame, whatever you feel is needed to get me to write more or never lay finger to a keyboard again, I'd love to hear from you.   
Thanks, --A.K.A.   
Terra_angel@email.com  
  



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